


Blake's Kitten

by Funtimewriter



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: A kumie is now a kitty/human hybrid, Be Careful What You Wish For, Genetic Engineering, I hate you NutCracker, Kitten!Adam, My girlfriend is spoiled rotten, People as Pets, Size Difference, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, What I won't do for readers, Why Did I Write This?, Why do people want this, help I've created a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funtimewriter/pseuds/Funtimewriter
Summary: Blake is not a cat person.  He is certainly not a kumie person.  He just needs a present for his niece.  That's all.





	Blake's Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I officially don't get this kink, but here's what happened: NutCracker drew a bit of random art that she posted on Tumblr featuring a tiny Adam as a kitten climbing out of Blake's sleeve. Then she started going on about wanting a story about this. It wasn't even on my Tumblr, but next thing I know, my Watch is pinging with a request on Tumblr, offering to get down on knees to get a kitten Adam fic. Then it got a like. And another. And meanwhile, Nut is fanning the flames. This is the girl who became my internet girlfriend because she was texting me at work and her co-worker snapped at her to "stop texting your boyfriend." That is how I became an internet boyfriend. And that is how this fic came to life, because my internet girlfriend and my readers are the most spoiled lot!
> 
> Song I used to write this piece is "Baby Mine" by Bette Midler  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1KWq9DhR1As
> 
> Enjoy.

            Blake stood outside the pet store, wondering again what he was doing.  He didn’t want a kumie.  He’d never wanted a kumie.  When he’d first heard about the house cats genetically engineered to look like tiny people, he’d thought it was weird.  Then he’d quickly revised his opinion.  Kumies, he decided, were creepy.  Blake didn’t care how many of his friends had them or how much people gushed over them, tiny people were just plain creepy!

            They were also high maintenance.  Although they had needs similar to regular cats, they had no fur except on their heads and tails, so they had trouble regulating their body temperature.  Therefore, they needed clothing.  Entire businesses had sprung up overnight to supply kumie clothes, which had become as absurdly popular as the kumies themselves.  They also needed special diets.  You couldn’t just feed the creepy little things cat food.  They had to have veggies and fruits, a variety of proteins and grains…  Having a kumie was like having a child.  In fact, some people took it so far as to lobby for kumie rights, wanting regulations put on their sale, care, and commercial use.  Blake couldn’t argue with the groups protesting kumie kitten mills.  But the things were genetically modified!  By their very nature, they were aberrations, genetic monstrosities designed and mass produced in the very face of natural design.  Blake couldn’t look at the stupid things without shuddering.

            Of course, absolutely none of Blake’s arguments mattered in the face of his fourteen-year-old niece, who, according to her, wanted a kumie kitten more than anything else in the world.  So now here he was, against his better judgement, standing outside of a pet store where a large sign advertised “New Litters of Kumie Kittens For Sale!”

            The freaky little things were in the window, rolling around with each other in the large display.  If it weren’t for their furry pointed ears and their long, thin, furry tails, they’d look like miniature people.  They played and fought and chased each other around in the display.  Blake felt slightly ill.  _Am I really going to do this?  Am I honestly going to go in there and buy one of these stupid things?_

            Then he remembered the puppy dog eyes that his niece had given him.  Why the hell couldn’t she just want a damned pony like little girls did when he was a kid?

            With a long-suffering sigh, Blake went into the store.

            He was immediately greeted by a smiling young woman.  “Hi!  I’m Nicki.  Are you here to look at our kumie kittens?  I saw you outside the window!”

            “I have a niece,” Blake explained quickly.  “It’s not for me.  She’s fourteen, so she needs something, well, maybe a little less crazy than what I saw in the window.  You got any others floating around?”

            “Well, we do have some in the back that are the same age,” Nicki confessed, her smile faltering.  “But your niece probably wouldn’t want one of those.”

            Blake raised an eyebrow.  “Why’s that?”

            “Well, they’re rescued kittens,” she explained.  “From a kitten mill.  They’re here because they’re gentle enough that they won’t usually bite, but they’re all kind of high-maintenance.”

            High-maintenance kumies?  More high-maintenance than kumies were normally?  Blake considered.  On one hand, it might do his niece good to have something to care for that really needed her.  Plus, Blake would have the personal karma of buying a rescue animal.  But on the other hand, if the stupid thing was too high-maintenance, Jenna would end up returning it or taking it to the pound, which would ruin all that karma.

            Seeing Blake hesitate, Nicki slipped her arm through his and started leading him back to the rear of the store.  “Nothing wrong with taking a look at them, right?” she soothed.  “You seem like a nice man, and there’s a few of them that could really use a good home!”

            Before Blake knew it, he was through the store and into the rear, looking at a series of clear display pens.  Each pen contained a single kumie.  As Nicki had indicated, they were about the same age as those in the group display up front.  But they displayed little or none of the wild energy of the others.  Most of them ran and hid when Blake approached.

            “They’re very skittish, because they were poorly treated,” Nicki was explaining.  “It’s going to take time for them to get used to being handled by people.  But I have a rescue kumie myself, and I’ll tell you this – these little guys know that you saved them.  And they’re grateful!  Kumies are very smart, you know.”

            “I see.”  Blake had been strolling along the series of pens.  He paused at one, frowning.  “This one’s empty.  You sold this one?”

            “Oh no!  Actually, this one is my favorite.  I’d take him home myself if I didn’t already have three!  Just a moment…”

            She fumbled with her key and quickly unlocked the clear covering over the kumie pens.  Startled, the other kumies dove for cover.  Blake saw a small lump in the sawdust of the “empty” pen twitch, revealing an impossibly tiny booted foot.  Making soothing sounds, Nicki carefully closed her hands around the lump.  Blake heard a small, frightened squeak.

            “Hold out your hands,” she ordered.

            Blake did, and a moment later, she’d deposited something into them.  And then Blake was blinking in astonishment at a tiny, frightened face.  A pair of hazel eyes looked up at him, wide-eyed as the creature shook.  It wore a torn, somewhat dirty white t-shirt and equally torn and dirty jeans over a pair of motorcycle boots.  Odd dark markings covered his arms.  It wasn’t unusual for the kumies to have various pigmentation on their bodies, but to Blake’s eyes, the markings almost looked like tattoos.  Combined with his clothes, it made the creature look like a miniature rock star.  The kumies had human-like feet, Blake knew.  But their hands still had tiny claws.  The kumie reminded Blake of that now when it suddenly broke and bolted forward, racing along Blake’s jacketed arm with its claws clinging and its tiny boots sliding.  Startled, Blake raised his arm and tried to catch the kumie with his other hand.  The creature yelped and darted into Blake’s denim jacket.  “Whoa!” he yelled, feeling the tiny thing squirming its way down his sleeve.  “What the hell?  I didn’t know they got that small!”

            “He’s a runt,” Nicki explained.  “That’s the other reason these are high-maintenance.  They’re all, well, defective in some way.  We didn’t even have good clothes that could fit him, so that’s why he’s in the torn stuff.  And as you can see, he’s super skittish, because he was mistreated.  But once he warms up to you, he’s very sweet!”  She smiled.  “I call him ‘Adam.’”

            “Adam?”  Blake tried the name out and nodded.  “Ok, Adam.  Ya need to come out of there now, ya hear?  Come on, out of my sleeve!”

            Tiny claws prickled Blake’s arm.  A small lump moved along his sleeve to his wrist.  A tiny face peeked out, squeezing through the gap between Blake’s sleeve and his wrist.  And then, with a pop, Adam’s head appeared.  His ears flickered.  Once more, the hazel eyes looked up at Blake.  And then his mouth opened as he mewed at Blake.

            “I think he likes you!” Nicky encouraged.

            “Yeah, well, I think maybe getting a fourteen-year-old girl a runt kumie that’s likely to have health problems is a bad idea,” Blake declared.  He handed the kumie back over.  “I guess I’ll go take another look at those ones up front.”

            Adam was off like a shot, dodging Nicki’s hands and racing back up Blake’s arm again.  But this time, Blake caught him.  The kitten squeaked when Blake’s hand wrapped around him.  Blake gently deposited him back in his pen.  And the instant his motorcycle boots were back in the sawdust, Adam raced to the side.  The clawed hands scratched frantically at the glass as he let out mew after high-pitched mew.

            Blake hesitated in the act of turning away.  The hazel eyes were looking right at him, the kumie’s eerily human face twisted in an expression of desperation.  Adam’s eyes seemed to plead with him.

            “Aw hell…” Blake groaned.  “If I take him and things don’t work out, I can take him back, right?”

            “I’d love to say yes, but the store policy is that all sales are final,” Nicki told him.

            “Well, ain’t that precious?” Blake grumbled.  He looked towards the front of the store.  He should just go out there, grab the first kitten that got near him, hand it to his niece, and be done with it.  But his eyes were drawn irresistibly to Adam.  The runt kitten was still scratching desperately at the side of his pen.  Adam had been so skittish that he had buried himself in the sawdust of his pen before.  Now he seemed terrified to be left behind.

            “Why don’t you try holding him again?” Nicky suggested coyly.

            Blake wanted to say no.  Blake tried to say no.  He knew if he held the kitten again, he’d more than likely take it home.  Say no.  Walk away.  Grab another kumie and whatever the hell it needed and then just leave.  Leave.  Say no, and leave!

****

            One kumie bed.  One complete kumie wardrobe.  One box of kumie complete balanced nutrition, with instructions on how to supplement with fresh proteins and greens.  One book on basic kumie care.  One kumie litter box.  A kumie food and drink station that kept itself refilled with the use of a two-liter bottle.  And the kumie himself in a brand-new kumie carrier.

            Adam had stopped mewing the moment Nicky had put the kitten back in Blake’s hands.  Now he was curled up in his carrier, silent and still.  He wasn’t sleeping.  The hazel eyes were fixed on Blake, wide and solemn as they watched Blake drive.

            “This is only temporary,” Blake told him.  “You’re going to be a birthday present for my niece, Jenna.  She’s fourteen.  So I guess you better get used to being handled, buddy, because she’ll handle you for sure!”

            Adam’s ears flicked forward towards the sound of Blake’s voice.  His head tilted slightly to the side in a posture of listening.  It was probably the most anyone had ever listened to Blake in his life.  Before he knew it, he found himself telling Adam all about his day to day life, describing how his days typically went.  He told Adam about the trials and tribulations of being a country singer.  He talked about his niece.  He talked about his manager.  He talked loudly and in fairly colorful terms about the jerk who cut him off a few miles from his ranch.  And through it all, Adam appeared to be listening.  The tip of the kitten’s tail flicked, his face seeming amused at Blake’s cursing.  Suddenly, Blake was starting to think he understood why kumie people, who he’d always referred to as “kumie nuts,” spoke of their kumies as if they were children.  It was hard not to anthropomorphize Adam when he was lying there smiling at him.

            If nothing else, the sound of Blake’s prattling voice got Adam accustomed to it.  He still got wide eyed and his tail got bushy when Blake carried him in his carrier into the house, where he was promptly greeted by a sniffing dog nose.  But Blake didn’t push the nervous kitten.  He let Ol’ Red have a good sniff at Adam while the kumie remained safely in his carrier.  That gave everyone time to get to know everyone else while Blake dragged the rest of the kumie loot into the house.

            By the time he’d lugged everything in, Ol’ Red and Adam appeared to have come to an understanding.  The dog was lying down in front of the kumie carrier with his nose facing it and his tail wagging.  Adam had stopped hissing.  A tiny hand was batting tentatively towards the dog, who licked at it, producing another small hiss.  “Now now,” Blake scolded gently.  He scratched the dog’s head and shooed him back.  Then he got into the kumie carrier and scooped Adam out.  He held the kitten against his chest and moved to his chair.

            Red came over, turned around three times, and then plopped down at Blake’s feet with a lazy yawn.  Adam clung to Blake’s shirt, looking up at him.  Blake let him be and pulled out the book on kumie care.  Half an hour later, he’d finished the book and looked down at Adam.  The kitten was still clinging to Blake’s shirt, but now Adam’s head was resting against Blake’s heart.  The sound of his heartbeat seemed to be lulling the tiny creature to sleep, as his hazel eyes were blinking slowly.  Blake set the book aside and gently scratched at Adam’s velvety ears, and smiled when the eyes closed in pleasure.  “Says here you like a lot of physical contact, especially when you’re young,” Blake told him, nodding towards the book.  “But it also says that kumies bond strongly with one person and, while friendly with others, don’t do well away from that person.  You’re not bonding with me, are you buddy?  You’re gonna belong to my niece!”

            Blake’s answer was a soft, rumbling purr.  The kitten’s hands flexed, massaging at the front of Blake’s shirt.  His eyes didn’t open, but his head tilted, giving Blake’s scratching finger better access to his ears.

            “You’re a cute little thing,” Blake noted.  “But you can’t stay with me.  In fact,” he added, reaching for his phone, “I should call my sister, let her know I bought you.”

            Janice picked up on the first ring.  “Oh, hey, Blake!  I was just about to call you.  Listen, I know you said you were going to go and pick up a kumie kitten for Jenna.  We just found out that our neighbor’s kumie had kittens, and Jenna fell in love with one of them.  She’ll be getting her as soon as she’s old enough to leave her mother.  In fact, she’s over there right now, bonding with her.  She’s such a cute little thing, Blake!  But anyway, don’t go buying a kitten, because Jenna’s already got one.”

            “Um, it’s a little late, Janice!” Blake exclaimed.  “I got this damned kitten on me now for her!  What the hell am I supposed to do with it?  This is a male, do you think Jenna might want two?”

            “She might want two, but I certainly don’t!” Janice retorted.  “Can’t you just take him back?”

            “No, apparently all sales are final.  Well shit!  What am I gonna do with this stupid thing now?”

            “I don’t know, Blake!  Kumies are very popular, and if it’s cute, someone’s bound to want it.  Just don’t let it bond to you!”

            “Right.”  Blake scowled at the kitten, who was looking up at him with anxious eyes.  “Now what am I supposed to get her for her birthday?”

            “Just get her a gift card from the pet shop so she can buy kumie clothes,” Janice suggested.  “God knows we’ll need those!”

            Right.  A gift card.  Blake hung up and scowled at the phone.  He should have gotten a gift card in the first place and let his niece just pick out her own kumie.  Now he was stuck with this runt nobody would want!

            The kumie was still looking at him.  Adam looked upset.  He got up and carefully climbed further up Blake’s shirt, claws clinging to the fabric of the shirt and boots pushing him up.  Blake was scowling as the kitten reached his shoulder and stood up, arms and tail waving until Adam got his balance.  Then Adam carefully stepped forward, put his hands on Blake’s cheek, and rubbed his tiny head against Blake’s stubble.

            Blake couldn’t help but smile.  And then the kumie pressed his lips to Blake’s cheek in what could only be the tiniest kiss Blake had ever received.

****

            Opinion on just how intelligent kumies actually were was mixed, at best.  Owners had opinions that varied from “Kumies aren’t even as smart as regular cats” to “My kumie is smarter than I am!” and everything in between.  According to experts, kumies were generally more intelligent than cats.  Some were exceptionally bright.  But every source Blake looked at scoffed at the notion that a kumie was anything other than an animal.  “‘Kumies, due to their superficial resemblance to humans, are often attributed with greater intelligence than they actually possess,’” Blake read.  “‘They can masterfully mimic human emotions with their wonderfully expressive faces.  While their vocalizations are typically no different than other cats, they have been known to laugh and cry, to express affections in a fashion that is remarkably human’ – a fashion that is remarkably human, there we go! – ‘and are generally excellent companions.  But all kumie owners must bear strongly in mind that kumies are, in fact, animals.’  Well, I guess that settles it.  You’re just a good little mimic, aren’t you, Adam?”

            Adam had found a comfortable spot in Blake’s pocket.  He was lying on his stomach with his arms splayed out against Blake’s chest, gazing up at him in adoration.  It looked like the kitten was somehow hugging Blake.  Blake scratched at Adam’s ear with a finger and was immediately rewarded with a loud purr that defied Adam’s tiny body.  Blake chuckled.  “You were responding to the tone of my voice, weren’t you?” he cooed.  “Where’d you learn to kiss people, huh, little Rockstar?  And what the hell am I going to do with you now?  Any idiot can see that you’ve bonded to me.  If you only bond to one person, there’s no sense in giving you away, is there?  You’ll just moon for me and get yourself sick!  Even these web sites say that.  Take a kumie away from the person they bond with and their health goes downhill fast.  You’re just a tiny little runt!  You’ll probably have health problems as it is.  I know I’m a big dumb softie, but I can’t do that to you.”

            Adam’s face broke into a smile.  He gazed in adoration at Blake and clutched at Blake’s finger.  An impossibly tiny rough pink tongue appeared and began lapping at the tip of Blake’s finger, the kitten continuing to purr loudly as he groomed his new owner.

            After that, things largely fell into place.  Adam disliked being separated from Blake for any extended period of time.  He tagged along after the big man wherever he went, his little motorcycle boots racing to keep up with Blake’s long strides.  Blake worried how Red would do with the kitten.  But the two not only got along surprisingly well, but they developed a sort of partnership.  Blake came into the kitchen to discover Adam up on the counter, struggling to get into the cookie jar where he kept Red’s treats, Red waiting expectantly below.  He couldn’t figure out how Adam got up there until he happened to see Red go trotting past later with the kitten riding on the dog’s neck, clinging to his collar.  Blake had followed them into the kitchen in time to see Red pause at the counter, letting Adam climb up onto it to go after the dog treats again.  That had earned them both a scolding.  Both looked equally morose as Blake moved the treats up to the top of the fridge.  If they got to them up there, Blake vowed, he was giving up.  Still, it was good to see his pets playing together.  Adam would chase after Red’s tail, pouncing on the unsuspecting dog with his own tiny tail lashing in excitement.  Red typically responded by turning around and licking the kitten, earning himself a disgusted expression that always made Blake laugh.

            Adam was only a kitten.  He needed frequent power naps, for which he utilized his kumie bed.  If Red decided to nap, Adam frequently curled up with him, using one of the dog’s floppy ears as a blanket.  But Adam’s preferred place to sleep was with Blake.  Adam, Blake discovered, could nap anywhere.  The kitten curled up in any pocket he could fit, up Blake’s sleeve if he was holding still, on Blake’s lap, sprawled over the back of Blake’s neck, and, once, curled precariously on the rim of Blake’s ball cap with his tail dangling in Blake’s field of vision.  He was so adorable that Blake soon discovered his phone was full of images of the kumie playing, smiling, sleeping, posing in the new outfits Blake kept finding excuses to buy for him…  Blake shook his head in disgust.  He’d always made fun of what he called “Crazy kumie people” who would constantly take pictures of their pets and talk about them to others.  Now he’d become one.  But at least he wasn’t alone.  He found willing audiences eager to compare notes with him everywhere he went.  Even Justin Beiber, his rival on “The Voice” that he’d never really cared for, had a kumie of his own, letting the two finally find common ground.

            But Blake steadfastly refused to take Adam with him when he was performing.  Adam would cry and mew and cling to Blake’s foot or try to climb up the leg of his jeans, but Blake was firm.  “No kumies on stage!” he’d scold, putting a protesting Adam back into his carrier.  “You know I’ll come back and spoil you rotten as soon as I’m done!”

            But of course Adam didn’t understand, or simply didn’t care.  The hazel eyes pleaded, tiny hand outstretched through the grated door of the carrier as his mews of distress filled the air.  It was all Blake could do to go out.  But the instant he came back, Adam would light up like the sun.  He’d shake the grate, mewing loudly, smiling bright eyed at Blake as the big man hurried to get him out and cuddle him close.

            Yup, Blake decided.  He was pathetic.  But what could he do?  Adam was just so damned cute!

            It was inevitable that he’d eventually give in.

            It happened when Blake was scheduled as part of an act for a benefit event.  Blake had gathered his kumie up and was about to put him into the carrier.  And as usual, Adam was crying and struggling.  His little feet kicked frantically.  His claws clung to Blake’s sleeve.  The tearful expression pleaded with Blake.  And that was when Blake stopped.

            Solemn blue eyes gazed into hopeful hazel eyes.

            Then Blake popped the kumie into his breast pocket, picked up his guitar, and headed on stage.  If anyone said a word, Blake resolved, he’d pop them one.  Meanwhile, Adam’s delighted purrs blended with the applause as Blake went out on stage.  Off to the side, Blake could see Carson snickering as he spotted a wide-eyed Adam peeking up out of Blake’s pocket.  Fuck him.  Carson had a kumie of his own that he’d named “Snuggles.”  As far as Blake was concerned, he had no room to talk.

            Naturally, a picture of Blake, singing on the stage with a happy Adam’s smiling face protruding from his breast pocket, landed on every tabloid.  He was officially a crazy kumie person.

            Well, so be it.

            Then came the day that Blake woke up, finding Adam curled against his neck as usual.  But Adam didn’t stir.  All he did was shiver and give a weak little cry that drove an icy spear of fear into Blake’s heart.

            “Adam?  Adam!”  Blake scooped his kitten up.  Adam seemed listless.  His breathing was coming in rapid pants.  His body shook despite the warm flannel pajamas he was wearing.  His tail and ears drooped.  And his little face was flushed.

            Blake got dressed faster than he’d ever done in his life.  He had Adam bundled up in a warm fluffy towel and was racing out for his car.  To hell with the kumie carrier.  Adam simply lay still in the towel.  His hazel eyes appeared glazed.

            Blake had the vet on the phone even as he peeled out of his driveway, racing for the veterinary clinic at breakneck speeds as he told them what he’d found.

            “He sounds very sick,” the receptionist noted.  “You should bring him in right away!”

            “I’m five minutes out,” Blake told her.  “Just be ready when I bring him in!”

            They were ready.  When Blake burst through the door, they led him right in, instructing him to put Adam onto the exam table.  Then they shooed him outside.  Blake looked in, seeing Adam’s stricken, panic-filled face as he managed to raise his head and look longingly after Blake.  The sad little mew he gave was barely audible.

            Now there was nothing to do but wait.

            An eternity later, the vet appeared.  “Mr. Shelton, I’ll be honest with you,” she told him.  “Adam is very, very sick.  It’s a type of flu that kumies are prone to, especially those from kitten farms.  And it’s bad.  We’ve had a lot of kumies in here with it.  And in a kitten, it’s even worse.  Since Adam’s also a runt, he’s more prone to complications.”

            “Do whatever you gotta do,” Blake urged.  “I don’t care what it costs!  Whatever Adam needs!”

            “Right now, we’re giving him fluids and medication.  But it’s going to be very touch and go.  Adam needs a lot of care, and we can’t give it to him here.  He’ll have to be isolated.  Do you have any other kumies at home?”

            “No, just Adam.”

            “Then I need to ask you to make a commitment here,” she declared.  “As you’re probably aware, a kumie bonds very strongly with one person, and that’s obviously you.  If we kept him here in isolation, we could provide his physical care, but the stress of being separated from you would probably kill him.  The best thing we can do, if you want to save him…?”

            “I do, I’ll do anything!”

            “Then take him home.  We’ll give you his medication and teach you how to give it to him and provide the care he needs.  But the next few days will be critical.  You’re going to have to devote a lot of time and attention to his care!”

            And Blake did.  He took Adam home with a bag of medications and supplies.  Nearly everything came in drops.  Adam had a dropper of medicine for his flu, a dropper to relieve his fever, a dropper to help keep his lungs clear.  The idea of Adam’s tiny lungs filling with fluid horrified Blake.  The vet had also advised him against offering solid food, but Adam was so weak he couldn’t lap up the liquid nutrition Blake had been supplied with.  So Blake loaded up the tiny kitten bottle he’d been given to feed Adam.

            Adam seemed to understand how hard Blake was trying.  His tiny hands held weakly, one hand clutching the bottle and the other wrapped around one of Blake’s fingers as he held him, wrapped snugly in the towel.  After feeding, Adam was given a warm bath in the sink.  Normally, Adam loved his baths.  He enjoyed splashing in the water.  But now Adam lay listlessly in the sink, letting Blake carefully clean and dry him, re-dress him in his flannel pajamas, wrap him back up in a dry towel, and cuddle him close.  The sad hazel eyes never left Blake’s face.  They watched the big man as Blake sang softly to his kitten until they finally blinked closed into sleep.

            For three days, Blake never put the kitten down except to shower.  Even then, he left Adam, still wrapped in a towel, on the counter where Blake could keep an eye on him.  And as soon as he was out and dressed, Blake was holding his kitten again.  And bit by bit, Adam recovered.  Then one day, Blake, who had nodded off singing to Adam in a rocker near the window, woke up to see his kitten sitting up in his lap.  The sun was streaming through the window.  Adam sat in the light, apparently enjoying the warmth.  He’d crawled out of the towel and was just sitting there on Blake’s leg, looking up at Blake solemnly.

            “Hey, Rockstar,” Blake called.  “You look better!”

            And Adam’s face broke into a welcome smile that warmed Blake much more than the sun.


End file.
